


Love and All The Related Actions

by cynosure_phrases



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Angst, Endearments, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynosure_phrases/pseuds/cynosure_phrases
Summary: “I speak my truths,” I say with a flourish of a hand, “that doesn’t mean I’m overly truthful. A man’s allowed to have some secrets.”“So you lie?”“No, I just hide.”He snorts, and I hear him set down his mug. “You can say that much.”--The 5 times Baz called Simon "Love", and the 1 time it really stuck.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561252
Comments: 11
Kudos: 273





	Love and All The Related Actions

**Author's Note:**

> sdjkfhdlf i don't have much to say but hi yes! i'm doing the Carry On Countdown again! make sure to follow me on tumblr (@neck-mole), because i mostly do art !!!

“Love, can you pass me the sugar?”

I’m not paying attention when I say it. I don’t think I’ve paid much attention to what I’m saying to Snow anymore in general, if I’m being honest. The connection between my verbal communication and my internalized commentary has bled through into our everyday conversations. The block that’d stopped me from saying “I want your thighs to crush my head” and “I want you to call me darling” have somehow vanished after Snow first slipped his hand down my trousers and told me he wants me, properly. Forever.

So I guess now I can’t stop myself from saying what I think. Which, now, is a bit of my downfall.

Because I’ve never said that properly. “ _ Love” _ . It’s come out on occasion, like  _ that _ night, but I’ve tried to avoid it since. Let it slip away, and wait to say it when we’re both coherent and there.

I would say right now’s a good time to say it, because he’s not  _ mad _ at me for saying it. Instead, he looks a bit shocked. And pleased.

“ _ ‘Love’ _ ?” He hums, nose wrinkling up as he grins. I roll my eyes deliberately, watching him reach across the island to pass me the shaker. “We’re finally graduating to saying love now, are we?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug it off as I dismissively turn away and pour a few spoonfuls into my tea. “Are we?”

“Well, you say just about everything else.”

“Do not.” He might as well be right. I  _ do _ say quite a bit to him.

I hear him laugh behind me, seat scraping forward as he leans closer towards the island. “Sure. Act like you didn’t tell me I looked fit in the shirt I picked yesterday.”

“I speak my truths,” I say with a flourish of a hand, “that doesn’t mean I’m overly truthful. A man’s allowed to have some secrets.”

“So you lie?”

“No, I just hide.”

He snorts, and I hear him set down his mug. “You can say  _ that _ much.”

When I turn, he’s still looking at me, mug raised back to his lips and eyes staring up through his thick blonde-ish brown eyelashes. He gives me a smirk over the ceramic, lowering it slowly before he leans under the overhang.

“Well, you’re still welcome for the sugar,  _ love _ .”

My heart patters a bit, making me properly smile back and lean in to give him a good kiss.

\--

“Come closer, love,” I whisper onto his lips, shifting over the sofa. He hums against me, tail twitching against my thigh as he pushes up further onto my lap.

“Second time,” He breathes, head hanging heavily onto mine.

I feel his breath against my cheek, wet and excited, but I don’t feel anything but confused. After all, this definitely is far beyond the second time we’ve made out on the couch in a quick attempt to use the flat before Penny gets home. 

“What… what do you mean…” I alternate kisses between the sides of his face, working down his left jaw eventually. “What do you mean by second?”

I feel his laugh gently shake his body, reverberating against my own mouth as he chuckles. “I mean,” he says back, a hand slipping into my hair. “That’s the second time you’ve called me ‘Love’.”

My lips stop abruptly, then pull off. All of me pulls off, in fact, and I lean back to stare at him.

He’s smiling, looking awfully pleased with himself as his elbows nudge my shoulders while he holds himself on top. I want to laugh. I want to groan at him. But I settle for a tight lipped sigh, closing my eyes as Snow laughs harder on top of me.

Then he sits up, settling his weight onto my hips and making  _ something _ a little bit more clear.

“What? Are you embarrassed about saying it?” He teases, hands running up my already half-unbuttoned shirt (his doing).

“No,” I say quickly, then realise I sound defensive, so I open my eyes to give him a softer look. “I’d tell you if it was embarrassing. Like you sitting against my half-hard cock right now--that’s embarrassing.”

He shifts forward a bit, alleviating some pressure as he leans back down and pecks my lips. “Then what is it?”

“Nothing.” My hands press to his chest.  _ Nothing. _

“D’you want me to say it back?” He asks in only a way that he could both dumbly and lovingly say. “Because I can, if that’d make you feel any better.”

“No, it ruined the mood.”

He scoffs as his lips press quickly to mine, and I let my eyes fall shut before he leans back down again, this time trying to make it last. I give him that.

I give him every opportunity to tear me apart, as he wishes. As he needs.

It isn’t until we turn over with me awkwardly trying to find a proper seating here (it’s awfully difficult for us to comfortably snog on the couch--I’m a bit too long, and he’s almost a bit too wide for both of us to fit on our sides, but that doesn’t matter, because I like snogging him too much to stop). He pulls right off again, undoing my belt buckle as he leans up, nipping at my ear.

“Take off your trousers, love,” he murmurs.

\--

“Love, please…”

“Don’t  _ ‘Love, please’ _ me,” he snaps back, taking a further step away.

Snow looks a mess. Wild eyes, red from crying. This hair is overworked from his fingers, and his skin looks like it’s been itched at. Nervous tick.

I set my jaw, taking a step back and raising my hands defensively. I knew this would happen. This has been bound to happen for weeks. His telltale signs have been evident; clear as day and terrifying as ever. On edge,  _ under _ eating, and barely sleeping. It seems to happen on a semi-regular basis. Every three months or so, Snow has his breakdown. His nervous burst, then I stick around to pick up his pieces,

It was about three months yesterday.

I feel a bit defeated this time. The other fights… they were different. This one’s just me asking when the last time he took a shower was.

“Snow, it was just a question!” I’m raising my voice, despite not really meaning to. It just comes out. “I just asked a bloody question!”

“You know it’s more than that,” he says louder, gesturing his hands about the room. His room. His messy room. “It’s… it’s…” I give him the minute to think. I know better now than to stop him. “It’s the premise! It’s the fact that you know it’s been a while, and asking just makes me feel guilty!”

“Yeah, but I want to fucking help you, you fucking moron!”

He startles, and my heart falls out from under my soul (if that’s still even in there). He fucking flinches, first looking unsure, then plain angry.

“I don’t need your fucking pity. I made it far enough without you in the past.”

“Past? _ Past?” _ I nearly laugh, then swallow back my words. I have to stop insulting him. I’ve been trying, I really have. “Snow, the past was in school, and in  _ homes. _ It’s different now.”

“How’s it different, huh?”

“We’re on our own now!” I want so desperately to reach out and hold onto those steady forearms of his. “We… we’re  _ adults, _ sort of. You’ve got Bunce and me  _ wanting _ to help you. We want you okay, if you’d just  _ take _ it, damn it!”

I try to study his face, but he’s getting harder and harder to read nowadays. Almost skittish. Like a misstep, a misread, and I’ll be regretting it in the following argument.

Which leads me to this face. Either a pout, or a frown. I’m not sure, and I’m afraid to guess, but I  _ think _ it’s a pout.

“Simon,” I try, watching him raise his eyes to meet mine before I hold my breath and try, very softly, “Love…”

He exhales, shrinking further into himself as he looks away.

We’re silent, for a moment, before he shakes his head and waves a hand out. “Not right now,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t right now.”

My arms drop to my sides as I nod, swallowing back at the lump worrying my throat. “That’s fine. It’s whatever you need.”

He flinches at that, but I try to ignore it this time. I don’t have the energy to continue this, and by the looks of it, neither does he.

“I just need a moment,” he whispers, gesturing towards his bedroom door. “Can you…”

I nod, going for the jacket I’d draped onto his bed, but he stops me short with a quick grab of my wrist.

“I’d meant… just… stay in the living room. Don’t go. I need a moment to myself, but after…”

“We’ll talk after,” I finish, and he nods, to my relief.

“We’ll talk after.”

\--

“You know that you’re adored, right, love?”

Snow’s eyes open slightly, peering up at me for the second before they fall back shut. It’s been a bad week.

It’s been a bad week in a cluster of bad weeks. This week’s just been the worst, though. I want to blame it on the snowfall, which was barely anything,yet that slight flurry was enough to put him into a bit of a mood.

Still, he’s taking it better than he has in the past.

“Well, you saying it makes me at least somewhat aware.”

I pinch his cheek lightly, which deserves me a wrinkled nose in response. I want to lean down and kiss it.

“It’s true. I mean, I think at least from Bunce--”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

“--and I think there was at least a few people in our year who definitely had a thing for you--”

“ _ Baaazzz… _ ”

“--on occasion, you’re definitely tolerable--”

He leans up and cuts me short with a peck on the lips. I smile, cradling his head and kissing him back.

He settles back down after a moment, exhaling quietly and staring up through slightly bloodshot eyes. I feel his tail against my calf, winding up around it slowly and holding gently to my skin. (It tail took me a little while to get used to him doing  _ that _ with his tail. Only because when I’d first felt it, I’d thought it was a snake for a split second, which felt ridiculous given we’re in a flat in the middle of London, but you never quite know.)

“You keep calling me love,” he murmurs, eyes slowly falling back shut. “Why is that?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

He shrugs, head turning in my lap to face the telly. It’s been muted, with subtitles getting stacked onto the bottom. I take the opportunity to push a hand through his hair, carding through it delicately as he hums in appreciation.

I almost say it.

It’s about to slip out, but I choke on it last minute. There’s something not quite right about it--something not settled. Something’s not firm.

He is. We are. Time should be. I think it’s just me who’s the one struggling here

“I say it because it needs to be said,” I whisper, pacing myself through words. “I say it because there definitely are people who love you, and I don’t think you’ve been called ‘Love’ before, despite that.”

A smile creeps around his face, which slowly turns back up towards mine as his cheeks crease around the grin.

“I guess you’re right.”

“When aren’t I?”

He laughs, then shifts onto his side to settle more into my lap. “Prick.”

“You love it.”

“Guess I do.”

\--

“God, don’t do that, love,” I groan into my phone.

He’s laughing, at least, but I’m dead serious.

“What? I think it’ll be a great idea!”

“How long until you have to decide?”

“Uhh…”

“ _ Crowley _ …”

He laughs harder. “What, do they look  _ that _ bad?!”

“Simon...”

“Liar!”

“Would I lie to you about this?”

“Maybe--who knows.”

I must look like a madman, having this conversation into my mobile at the sandwich shop a block away from class. I’m usually not this  _ expressive _ here. “Simon Snow, if you don’t walk away from those god awful shoes, I will take it into my own hands and burn them once I get a chance.”

“I think they’re great! And Shepard agreed!”

“Shepard thought you could pull off that lime green shirt, too. I would not call that man the epitome of fashion.”

“Shepard  _ also _ helped me pick out that jumper I got you last month,” he reminds, sounding completely too cocky for a man who’s about to buy the most hideous trainers the world has ever seen. “I would count that as a point towards him.”

“It was a lucky shot. I just  _ happen _ to like that shade of plum.”

“ _ Baazzz… _ ”

“Simon. My dear. Love. Sweetest. I will jump out your living room window if I have to see you in those, and I don’t care if I survive.”

“They’re not  _ that _ bad!”

I snort, then look back at the picture, if only to cringe. “I fucking hate you,” I mumble, hearing him laugh again. “Bastard. You absolute numpty--you’re going to get them, aren’t you?!”

“They’re secondhand, and dirt cheap!”

“For a  _ reason! _ ”

“I’m getting them.”

“Please, Crowley…”

“And I’m not taking no as an answer.”

“Fucking shit.”

He laughs, then quickly says “Love you” before hanging up.

And suddenly, I’m not so annoyed anymore.

\--

He’s wearing them when I open the front door.

They’re hideous. They’re like 2009 chav shoes, but somehow worse. 

But I don’t care anymore. Which, somehow, is the most miraculous thing on this damned planet, cured only by two words we’ve never spoken before.

And then he just said them. Out loud. To me.

He looks up, scrunching his nose a bit. “What do you think, love?” He asks, going to show them off (on second thought, maybe I don’t  _ not _ care, but rather for the sake of keeping the bits of my sanity left, I must ignore them).

I slip off my coat and join him on the couch, grumbling a quiet “You’re a fucking idiot” before grabbing his face and yanking him towards me.

He laughs a bit, smiling onto my mouth as I messily press my lips to his.

It’s awkward, and uncoordinated, and I feel like I don’t know how to kiss again, until Snow settles his hands onto mine and steadies me back on track.

There’s rustling in the kitchen, meaning someone else is definitely here, but I don’t mind that either. All I care about right now is Simon Snow, the mental image of him not wearing these god awful trainers, and the fact that he said he loves me (even if said inpassing).

“Bastard,” I mumble, grabbing his belt loops while pulling him closer. “Fucking wanker.”

“The shoes that bad?” He whispers out between kisses, barely escaping my hold on him. He’s smiling, and we both know that I know what he’s said, which makes me growl a bit as I keep kissing him harder.

He pushes us apart after a bit, grinning dumbly as he rolls his eyes. “Have you got something to say to me, then?”

“Million fucking things, Snow,” I respond, dumbly. “A million and one.”

“Then let’s work back from that extra one to keep it even.”

I’m chuckling as we bump noses quickly stealing kisses between our words.

“Love me? Love  _ you _ . Love…”

“Love,” he repeats back, nodding a bit. “Love.”

“My love.” I clear my throat, then exhale. “My love. You’re my love.”

“Damn, sounds a bit cheesy, if you ask me.”

I laugh, brain stating it over and over on a repeat track and intoxicating me to the point that I’m giddy. “Oh shut up,” I whisper, leaning in for another kiss.


End file.
